


Mornings

by oflittleuse



Series: Summerpornathon 2013 [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 17:03:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oflittleuse/pseuds/oflittleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mornings were the in-between time. Where every moment seemed to meld memories with a cold reality that Merlin could not bare to face."</p><p>Written for summerpornathon's "Fuck or Die" challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mornings

Mornings were the in-between time. Where every moment seemed to meld memories with a cold reality that Merlin could not bare to face. 

Most mornings there would be a ghostly touch which would linger along his skin. A memory of something that had gone. Something long gone. 

A haunting memory of someone holding him and pressing into him during the morning hours. There were days when Merlin would feel names tumble from his lips and other times confusion warred within him as the images of past lovers escaped his feeble mind.

Names and faces often remained just out of his reach these days. As if his mind was full of holes. The harder Merlin would try to remember the harder it was to piece everything together. 

At times those ghostly touches would seem too real. Those times when he could feel his muscles quiver in anticipation and his cock harden from the echoed caresses of past lovers. 

The haunting touches disappeared by the time Merlin awoke enough to remember there was no one with him. No warm body to snuggle against. 

Some days Gwen worried about him, he could tell by the way she watched him. So silent. Everyone was silent these days. No one talked. 

The mornings he woke up and could see Arthur on top of him, writhing in ecstasy as he rode Merlin’s cock, were the best mornings. The red haze of the moment. Everything slowed down when Arthur was there. 

A thin layer of sweat coated him as he worked his hips faster and faster, trying to find that spot which would make Arthur groan and clutch at him. It was a frantic race to finish. No slow love making but the rough friction of bodies. 

On his back, barely holding back his pleasure, he drank in the sight of Arthur like a starved man. How his cheeks flushed, his blonde hair a messy nest from the sweat and his thighs quivered from the exertion. It was always the nearest to a heaven Merlin had ever been. 

In the moment that hung out of time, when he looked into Arthur’s eyes before coming, a second which lasted years. 

By the time his breathing had returned, Arthur was no where to be seen. He never stayed these days. Merlin found it highly annoying and planned to talk to the prat about it one of these days. 

The worst mornings were when clarity came with the morning sun. The days he awoke and knew the world had long ago ended and still he remained immortal and alone. That no one was worried about his mental health and no one could hold him because everyone had died so many years ago. There were no phantom lovers, no friends and no Arthur, just Merlin waiting on the precipice for a time that never came. 

Those days he watched the red sun and wished the planet would finally lay waste to his skeletal figure and he could find some release.


End file.
